What Child is This?
by lolo popoki
Summary: Two months after taking in Kenshin, Hiko's having second thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters.

Yes, I know... this isn't chapter 14 of "Only the Beginning". I assure you that I haven't abandoned the story; I've just been miserably stuck on it for a while. And real life problems don't help matters any. Also, for anyone who's been wondering why I haven't been reviewing much, I'm very sorry! One of these days, I'll get around to it and also to replying to your reviews for my other stuff! Which reminds me... one reviewer had questioned me about my pen-name. For anyone else who is interested, "lolo popoki" means "crazy cat" in Hawaiian :)

Anyway, this little thing is something I've been toying off and on with since August and has become a bit of a minor obsession with me. I wasn't planning on posting until it was finished entirely, but I've decided to go ahead and post some of it now. I've been upset recently (one of my cats had been ill for several weeks and finally had to be put to sleep a couple days ago), and I thought that posting something might help me get my mind off things. This fic shouldn't be all that long really, maybe only 2 or 3 chapters. It originally started out to be a one-shot, but things never seem to go as planned with me :P Hope you enjoy!

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**What Child is This?**

Written by lolo popoki

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Chapter One

_What have I gotten myself into...?_

The swords-master sighed as he scrubbed resentfully at the damp bedding.

_What in the hell – _

His jaw clenched tightly, and his eyes narrowed.

– _possessed me to think _–

He angrily dipped the brush into the soapy bucket and then resumed his vicious scrubbing.

– _that_ _taking care of a little kid – _

He scrubbed even harder, growling slightly under his breath.

– _would _ever_ seem like a good idea!_

Finally finished, Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth tossed the brush aside and stood, sourly glaring down at the offending futon.

He was a genius in so many aspects of his life... swordsmanship, pottery... pretty much anything he set his mind to, he excelled at. He had quickly come to the realization that child-rearing, unfortunately, was not one of them. He really had no idea what the hell he was doing, when it came to taking care of a child. Especially if the child he had taken in was an orphaned, emotionally disturbed, abused former slave.

Hiko's shoulders sagged slightly. He was so tired. More so than he could ever remember being in his life. Mentally drained from the strain of trying to raise a child with so much emotional baggage... Physically exhausted from countless sleepless nights listening to frightened cries brought on by horrifying nightmares... Even when the boy slept silently, his terrified ki wouldn't allow the man to rest. The swords-master hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in almost two months, and his fatigue was finally starting to wear heavily on him.

And then he had been awakened early this morning to find that his deshi had actually wet the bed...

With a disgusted snort, he turned back towards the cabin to start preparing their modest breakfast, but then paused as he caught sight of the tiny, red-haired waif hovering nervously in the doorway.

The lingering traces of Hiko's earlier resentment faded at the expression of wide-eyed fright on his student's face. The man took a step towards the doorway and watched as the boy tensed, shutting his eyes tightly as if bracing himself for a blow.

"Gomen nasai, Shishou..." the child whispered fearfully. "Sessha didn't mean to..."

"Kenshin..." Hiko sighed wearily. So it was back to "sessha" again, was it? He had tried so hard to break Kenshin of that self-disparaging expression; the boy would never get far as a swordsman if he persisted in thinking himself "unworthy." For a while, Hiko would think that he had finally succeeded, but then a set-back like this would occur and the boy would regress. The slavers had apparently trained him far too well.

_Those damn bastards... I hope every last one of them is rotting in Hell right now... _

Hiko couldn't place all the blame on them though. He was forced to admit that it certainly didn't help that his own exhausted frustration made him short-tempered and irritable, driving him to frequently snap at the boy and making matters even worse.

Shaking off his exasperation, he continued forward. "Kenshin, relax... I'm not angry with you," he said gruffly, laying his hand awkwardly on the red-head's shoulder.

Kenshin flinched, shying away from the gentle touch.

Frustrated and heartsick, Hiko drew back and closed his eyes, his hand coming up to rub his face tiredly.

_Damn it, Kenshin! What the hell am I supposed to do with you?_

Hiko knew his irritation wasn't really fair; the boy had been through so much that it wasn't surprising that he had developed some serious trust issues. But still...

Did Kenshin really see him as such a monster?

It had been almost two months since he had brought Kenshin home, and with the exception of that first night, the child had barely spoken to him at all. A few timid words here and there, but those were mostly apologies. Half the time, the red-head seemed scared to death of him. That other half, however... he couldn't quite figure out _what_ Kenshin was feeling. There had been brief occasions when he had caught the boy watching him with an inscrutable expression on his face that Hiko was at a loss to identify.

Much as he hated to admit it, Kenshin was a complete mystery to the young swordsman –an enigma, a perplexing contradiction.

Excruciatingly meek, submissive, and quiet... Kenshin was the perfect little slave. And yet, Hiko had also seen in him the determined young boy who had the courage to face certain death in order to try to protect those he cared about... the one who had the strength and integrity to bury victims and murderers alike when he had failed.

_Where is he? Where is that other child now? _

Discouraged, Hiko sighed and opened his eyes, regarding his traumatized young ward with sorrow.

_And why... why can't I seem to get through to him? _

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Sinking into the steaming bathwater, Hiko relaxed back against the furo's edge, one elbow resting on the rim, his fingers lazily tracing fleeting, ever-changing patterns on the water's surface.

He felt worn out. Lethargic. Completely spent. Another long, exhausting, frustrating day of coping with that poor troubled child was at an end. And then he had to suppress a weary groan at the thought of the long hours still ahead. He knew sleep tonight would not be likely, given Kenshin's propensity for nightly terrors.

Hiko briefly submerged, holding his breath and scrubbing at his face, before surfacing to rest his head tiredly on the wall behind him. His mind began to wander down familiar paths, hopelessly going over the same questions that had been plaguing him these last couple months.

_What am I supposed to do? How can I help him? Am I even the one _able_ to help him? _

He was unhappy with the lack of progress he'd had so far. Not with the lessons... Kenshin was actually quite the promising young student. Quick and willing to learn, the kid's training was progressing surprisingly well; his sword drills becoming increasingly smooth and precise with each assault on the makeshift practice dummy Hiko had set up. But sadly, his submissive behavior towards his master had not lessened. It was one thing to be obedient; a student should always respect and obey his teacher. But this mindless subservience... this oppressed ki...

It was painful to observe how much damage had been done to that youthful spirit. Hiko may not have had much experience with children, but he knew that this attitude was neither normal nor healthy for someone of Kenshin's age. Two months had already passed, and not once in all that time had he seen even the barest hint of a smile on that child's face.

_Poor kid... I don't seem to be doing him any good at all._

More than a little discouraged, the swordsman sat staring up at the ceiling, absently toying with the ends of his hair floating loose in the water. He just didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe... maybe it was time to give up. Maybe what the boy needed was not training, but things a cynical bachelor like him could never offer: a caring family, a stable home, the patience and love that a child deserved. The thought of giving up galled him; the Hiten Mitsurugi master had never been one to back down from a fight. But he was growing resigned to the idea that this appeared to be one battle that he could never hope to win.

If he took Kenshin to the village, he knew they would not hesitate to take him in. The boy would have a chance for a normal life... a chance to actually be happy. And the swords-master's days could go back to being peaceful, uncomplicated, and stress-free.

Hiko hunched down lower in the water and glared miserably at the ripples spreading across the steaming surface.

Why then, didn't the thought make him feel any better?

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I really need to finish something that doesn't have Hiko in it... I'm getting obsessed with his character, I swear. But I'm such a sucker for Hiko/Kenshin WAFF! Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you like it so far! It's one of the few things I've written that I'm actually pleased with; I tend to hate most of my writing anymore, whether it's justified or not. And a huge "thank-you" to SiriusFan13 and sueb262 for their invaluable beta-work! I wouldn't have been confident enough to post if it hadn't been for their words of encouragement!

Glossary of terms:

Deshi – apprentice

Gomen nasai – I'm sorry

Shishou – master

Sessha – A form of "I" meaning "this unworthy one." Kenshin's trademark reference to himself when he's older. I thought it might have been something he first picked up during his time as a slave, since it seems like such a slavish thing to say.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters

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**What Child is This?**

Written by lolo popoki

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Chapter 2

The boy was watching him again.

Hiko sat cross-legged next to the fire, surreptitiously studying the little red-head out of the corner of his eye, while brushing out the tangles in his long dark hair, still wet from the bath.

Kenshin was quietly sitting in the corner spinning his little wooden top as he did every night before bedtime, warily peering at his master from underneath the shaggy fall of his bangs.

The master turned his head to look directly at his student, and saw him quickly avert his eyes, a faint blush adding a touch of color to the boy's normally pale face as he realized he was caught staring again.

Turning back to his toy, Kenshin continued with his repetitive activity. Playing... yet, _not_ playing. Every night, Hiko observed the boy's quiet hobby, hoping he'd see some sign of amusement. And every night, it was always the same. There was never any obvious enjoyment in Kenshin's actions. It seemed almost mechanical, more that of a familiar routine really than for any actual sense of fun.

_Comforting, perhaps_, Hiko mused, remembering that Kenshin had once told him the little top had been a gift from his parents... the last gift they had given him before their deaths. It was the only personal item he had kept from that time, and he kept it close, often tucked in his gi during training.

_He'll have to stop doing that once we begin sparring sessions..._

Still feeling depressed from earlier, Hiko watched a few moments more before laying his brush down with a small, tired sigh.

"Oi," he said gruffly, then sighed again as Kenshin jumped, startled by the unexpected break in the silence. "It's time for bed. Although, as your futon is still damp from earlier..." Seeing the boy's face flush in embarrassment, Hiko quickly held up a hand to forestall the stammering apology. He continued, "Since it's still wet, you'll have to use mine for tonight."

"Use... your futon?"

Hiko was not prepared for the expression of wide-eyed horror that crossed his deshi's face. "What's the matter?" he demanded, completely baffled by the reaction.

Kenshin anxiously stared up at his master, eyes still wide and slightly panicked. "You... you want me to go to bed with you?"

"N..Nani?!" the swords-master choked out, his own eyes suddenly wide with shock. He sat, gaping at the young frightened child for a long moment. "Of course not! What the hell–?"

Sudden comprehension struck him like a fist to the stomach, momentarily robbing him of speech.

From his first good look at the boy, Hiko had known without a doubt what kind of life the slavers had probably intended for him. The exotic red hair and sweet violet eyes would have fetched a hefty profit from those brothels catering to a specific clientele.

_But I hadn't considered... that the slavers... they didn't... did they? _

Just the thought of it sickened him, twisting his stomach into knots. Rage and unbridled hatred towards men already dead and buried swept over him, a nauseating fury burning cruelly into his gut. He was on his feet, sweeping aside the drape hanging over the doorway before he even realized he had moved. Ignoring the startled "Shishou!" from his young apprentice, he stepped out into the yard. He needed some air.

Outside, he found himself staring blindly up at the night sky, unmindful of the stars twinkling cheerfully high above. Shaken, body trembling with the effort to control his rage, the swordsman breathed in the cold, clear autumn air – slow, deliberate breaths as he sought to calm himself.

Logically, he was aware he was jumping to conclusions; it was foolish to rely on rash speculation and unsubstantiated guesswork, after all.

_But, it _is_ possible, _his heart whispered restlessly. _The way he reacted... and it's not really that uncommon among slavers and slaves. It would also certainly explain some things..._

Feeling quite ill, Hiko resolutely shoved these thoughts aside for the moment. He would deal with this troubling situation later. At the present, he was more concerned with his own loss of control. Angry or not, he should not have reacted the way he did.

Retrieving one of the bottles of sake he kept stashed outside to chill during these rapidly cooling nights, he sat down heavily on the grass outside the cabin, picking a spot reasonably sheltered from the icy breeze. He poured himself a drink, his expression grim.

_I've had enough. _

Two months of dealing with someone who constantly reacted to you as if you were a dangerous animal left him frustrated, unsettled and off-balance. He was sick and tired of it. He had tried so hard, and what was there to show for it? Headaches, nausea, and a psychologically scarred little kid who didn't trust him, and obviously never would.

The swordsman lowered his head, damp hair falling forward to hide the bleak misery in his eyes.

He had seen so much potential in that small child. For the first time in years, the jaded cynic had let himself hope for the future. And just like always, any hope he'd once held had been crushed.

Expression hardening as he finally came to a decision, he impatiently brushed away the raven strands clinging wetly to his face.

_Fine. If that's the way it's going to be..._

Kenshin poked his head out of the doorway, interrupting his master's thoughts. "Shishou?" he questioned anxiously. "Forgive me if I've upset you..."

"I'm not upset," Hiko said stiffly. "Just go to bed. Use my futon or sleep on the floor; I don't give a damn."

"But..."

"Bed." Hiko gave him a sideways glance. "Now." With a touch of bitterness, he added, "And you needn't worry, I most certainly will _not_ be joining you."

Kenshin ducked his head. "I wasn't worried..."

Hiko simply shook his head tiredly. "Liar..." he muttered, turning away, an odd little catch in his throat. "Try to get some rest. We're going into town tomorrow."

"Into town?" The boy hesitated uncertainly, his head cocked to one side. "For supplies?"

The swords-master kept his eyes averted, responding with only a noncommittal grunt.

Kenshin stared for a moment, then his gaze suddenly shuttered. "I see," he whispered, his voice resigned. He turned to head back into the cabin. "You should come back in soon," he murmured over his shoulder. "It's getting cold out." After this, he slipped back inside.

Regretful, Hiko stared at the empty doorway and sighed. "I'm sorry, Kenshin, but this is for the best."

He leaned back against the cabin wall and closed his eyes, shivering as the cold wind picked up and whispered mockingly through the trees.

_Liar..._

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(timid wave) Hi there... I know it's been so long since I've first posted this story, or even updated "Only the Beginning." You've all probably lost interest by now ;; I still haven't given up, I swear it. Ah well... I hope this short little depressing chapter is acceptable for now. Could use a little more tweaking, I think, but I'm tired of messing with it. Mood should get rather more humorous in the next chapter. I hope to update before another year is up... but I can promise nothing. :(

Big thanks goes to sueb262 and Warg, for looking this chapter over for me, and SiriusFan 13 for all her encouragement and support. Also, thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed thus far, and for all you wonderful people who voted for "Only the Beginning" in the RKRC awards! (group hug) Runner-up in two categories was seriously more than I'd ever even dreamed of...


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